I am aching to put my thoughts and feelings into words for you, yet the task lingers before me. Words and sentences fail me – nothing sounds quite right. Perhaps that is fitting?
Love is blind, especially when it comes to us loving Our Lord. We hear our Souls saying stark, simple prayers, then mutter in our beings that surely the Lord will not take our Soul’s groans seriously. Perhaps He thought us just thinking and not praying and requesting that He make us broken, or impoverished, or a Fool for Him.
I knew that I was going to suffer, and that the heartbreak would be beyond anything I could imagine or prepare. I could arm myself with His Armour (Eph. 6), but as I couldn’t imagine, I couldn’t prepare myself further, except through prayer. Thus I chose a prayer:
Holy Mother, pierce me through, In my heart each wound renew Of my
Saviour crucified. Amen.
This prayer to the Five Wounds of Christ had one repeating phrase pleading Momma Mary to take my heart into her holy hands, and present it to our Lord. He was then to say it be done to me, as it was done to Him! My heart was to bear each Wound of His Blessed Flesh, from the nail piercing and bruising from the hammer blows, to the gaping tear of the thrust lance.
And I broke. What else was I to do? I could not fathom praising Him. Why would I want to praise Him for pain? Two months later, I understand that is what I should be doing because I now know with every fiber of my Being that He hears me. What am I that He should listen to me? Listen, He does. It is more than many dare ponder.